


A Little Help

by Bumblesquee



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Grumpy Ratchet, M/M, Mentions of Bumblebee, Mentions of Smokescreen, Robutts Flirting, Suggestive KO aww yiss, fluff??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2503418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumblesquee/pseuds/Bumblesquee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knockout helps Ratchet patch up a little scratch after a small accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help

**Author's Note:**

> oooh my goodness, hello! i apologize for any ooc-ness on Knockout or Ratchet's part, I'm still trying to figure out how to portray personalities.
> 
> and once again, i have a wacky time line for this because my memory is a little fuzzy?? it's after the autobots and decepticons stopped fighting, maybe timeskip a few months or so, so that's why there's mention of Bee and Smokey befriending Vehicons & why KO is there at at all! 
> 
> enjoy! <3

If anyone asked, Ratchet was proficient.  
  
He was trained in medicine and all the beauty it could perform, and had enough experience under his hood to put a few self-proclaimed medbots to shame. Any injury that was presented to him left patched up well and healing as quickly as he could make it.  
  
Every professional, Ratchet reasoned as he frowned over his shoulder, had their less...dignifying moments. He stood in front of a mirror in the washracks, back facing it. Out of his peripheral vision, Ratchet could just barely see the ruler length scratch that adorned the middle of his back. It started more towards the left and then trailed over his spinal struts with a glaringly obvious dent punctuating its end.  
An honest mistake on Smokescreen's part, Ratchet reminded himself. He had been working on a new data pad at the base while Smokescreen and Bumblebee, along with two former Vehicons they had befriended, were playing some— confounded human game, one with a disk they threw back and forth. Ratchet hadn't paid much attention to them until Smokescreen threw the disk and sent Bumblebee flying after it — and the little yellow scout hit Ratchet's front, pushing him back against the sharp corner of a platform, scraping his paint and denting his body. Bumblebee had been so profuse in his apologies, his voice still slightly foreign to Ratchet's audials, but the medic had reassured the scout it was okay and that Smokescreen would be cleaning up the base as punishment instead ( _"Aw, come on, Ratchet! That's not fair!"_ ).  
  
Couldn't be _too_ angry about it.  
  
Ratchet left the washracks in favor of slipping into the medbay, where he stood silently and considered his options. Option one, he could try and fix the damage by himself. Surely he could do it, having the tools and proficiency, but Ratchet knew it would be a little more risky since the damage was at such an awkward angle for him, never mind the fact he couldn't see it well. Option two, one of his teammates would be glad to help him — and it's not that Ratchet didn't trust the other bots, he trusted each of them with his very spark, but when it came to medical occasions they didn't quite act to par according to Ratchet. There was a third option, but Ratchet would rather have gotten a pink paint-job than trust that sleazy, arrogant piece of—  
  
"My, my, my," A smooth voice purred out from the front of the medbay, behind Ratchet. "What _happened_ to you?"  
  
Ratchet swore he felt an optic twitch. Primus himself must have a personal vendetta against him, if he sent Knockout in here so _conveniently_.  
  
The red-white medic turned around to face the Decepticon with a thinly-veiled scowl. Knockout had a smirk curling his lip plates, one optic ridge raised in open amusement.  _Mockery_ , if Ratchet had to label it. After a moment of considering whether to reply or not, Ratchet vented heavily and stepped back to settle himself upon the medberth, scowl melting into a look of pure frustration.   
  
"It's not any of your business what happened to me. But since you'll make it your business," Ratchet gave Knockout a pointed look, "Smokescreen threw a disk and Bumblebee tried to catch it, but he only succeeded in pushing me into the platform." The older medic reached a servo back to trace a digit over the part of the scratch he could feel, relishing in the fact that it was just aesthetic damage. Until the dent, of course.   
  
Knockout tilted his helm to the side slightly before moving to sit beside Ratchet on the medberth, leaning back slightly to let his optics rake over the damage, processor already assessing it. "I could help you with that," Knockout began as he reached out to trace a clawed digit along the scratch's line. "I'm  _great_ with my servos, you know."  ******  
  
Ratchet sat up straight as a rod, optic ridges furrowing as he arched away from the Decepticon's digit and his innuendo. "I don't need your help. I can fix it myself." Ratchet slid off the medberth to stand as he began planning out what he'd need to do to fix the damage.   
  
The red-white medic's response made the Decepticon frown slightly, leaning forward to look at the side of Ratchet's face before reaching out to capture his wrist in one hand. The action earned him a glare, but Knockout stood and whirled the other medic around to press his knee joints against the medberth.   
Ratchet sputtered soft static as he was handled, optics widening to a saucer-like degree. "Knockout, what the frag do you think you're doing—?"   
  
As a response to the squirming, Knockout pressed a firm hand on Ratchet's back, which, surprisingly, stilled the red-white medic. "Calm down, you old nut. I'm going to fix it for you." Knockout leaned down and squinted, focusing on the finer edges of the scratch and humming as he turned to rifle through the medbay for tools he'd need.  
  
Ratchet stood there, stiff as a statue, a scowl bleeding onto his expression. He was beyond irritated with this, being treated like an ignorant sparkling who needed coddled about a  _scratch_. It was something he could fix himself, slaggit, he was a proficient medic and this scratch was nothing! This was ridiculous. He didn't  _need_  Knockout's help, he didn't  _want_ Knockout's help — he didn't even ask for it! Gritting his denta, Ratchet turned around with the idea of giving Knockout a good aft chewing and then storming out.   
But upon seeing Knockout examine his medical tools carefully, going through each one he'd need to fix up Ratchet like he so wanted, Ratchet stopped himself. He still didn't want the help. He could do it himself with little to no trouble. Yet somehow, seeing the other being so thorough and seemingly going through a mental check list, the sight warmed his spark enough to make him sit back down on the medberth.  
  
Perhaps accepting the assistance wouldn't be  _so_ bad.  
  
—  
  
"Stay still, Ratchet."  
  
"I— It's hard to!"  
  
"Do it for me. I know you can."  
  
"Don't  _coo_ at me! I'm not a sparkling."  
  
"For Primus' sake!"  
  
Knockout let out a harsh vent, switching off the buffer tool and setting it down. With an exasperated noise, he ran a servo over his face. For the past fifteen minutes, he had been trying to polish up his handiwork on Ratchet's back but the medic kept shifting his weight and squirming. The dent had been smoothed out and the scratch was filled in, painted fresh and dried — Knockout just wanted to give it that extra shine.  
  
Ratchet turned around from the medberth, letting out his own vent, albeit softer. The spot where Knockout had been attempting to buff tingled slightly. "Honestly, I don't need the buffing, Knockout. I thank you for fixing the dent and scratch, but that's all you need to do—"   
  
"You need all the help you can get." Knockout sniped under his breath, flicking his gaze towards the other medic before giving him a lazy smirk. "You know, Ratchet, I didn't look much _before_ but now that I've had the chance to, I think I've come to appreciate your aft more."  
  
There was a long pause as Ratchet's mouth opened and closed several times, optics widening ever so slightly.   
  
"What's the matter, doc, scraplet got your glossa?" Knockout grinned and leaned down closer, forcing Ratchet to lean back against the medberth.   
  
Ratchet stared a moment longer before intaking haltingly, shaking his helm. "I don't have time for this, Knockout. I have a data pad to finish."  
  
"Aww, come on, Ratchet. Let me buff your—"  
  
"If you lay one servo on me again, you'll have to do more than buff a scratch."  
  
"Ooh, feisty. I like them that way."  
  
" _Knockout_!"  
  
"Say it a little more lovingly.~"  
  
"I swear to Primus—" 

**Author's Note:**

> ** = when i literally gave up and lost my inspiration. after that point was complete bs, tbh. i'm so sorry. /crawls to a corner and wheezes forever.
> 
> I'll probably come back and redo this when I'm not half asleep, if people want me to. uwu;;


End file.
